Perestroika
by autumnrose2010
Summary: The year is 1992. The Soviet Union has fallen, and Philip and Elizabeth have been recalled to their homeland. Henry, now a college student, is torn between his love for his parents and the only life he's ever known. A budding relationship with an American girl further complicates matters.
1. Learning The Truth

_A/N: This story was partially inspired by a movie from 1987 called 'Little Nikita' that starred River Phoenix as Jeff/Nikita. I thought it was very similar to this show so if you like the show you'd probably like it..._

"You're both liars! You're fucking liars!" Henry stormed from the room.

"Darling." Elizabeth followed her son and put her hand on his shoulder, but he angrily shrugged it off. "We did it to protect you and your sister. Can't you see we had to? What would your teachers and friends have thought if they'd known the truth?"

"You two wouldn't know the truth if it bit you in the butt!" Henry retorted angrily.

"Don't you _dare _use that tone of voice with your mother!" Philip demanded.

"I'm an adult! You can't tell me what I can and can't do anymore!" Henry glared at his father.

"I so wanted to enjoy a nice holiday with you and your sister before we leave," Elizabeth told her son.

"Before you _leave?"_

"We fly back to Moscow in a few days," Philip told his son. "President Yeltsin needs our help in setting up his new government. He doesn't have any use for us here in the United States anymore."

"So that's it? Merry Christmas and then good-bye?"

"We assumed that you'd want to stay here and finish college. After all, you only have one year left."

"What about Paige?" Henry's older sister had been married for three years and was the mother of an infant son.

"We told her together before she went back home," Elizabeth said. "She was understandably shaken, but she's taking it well."

"What's my name?"

"Why, your name's still Henry Jennings, just like it's always been," said Elizabeth.

"No, I mean, what's my _real _name?"

"That _is _your real name."

"Jennings isn't a Russian name, and you know it!" Henry glared at Philip.

"Your name is Henry Mikhailovich Ivanov."

"Why is my middle name so long?"

"It's a patronymic."

"Oh my God..." Henry went to his room and wept.

* * *

The first thing to do was to call Paige. His mother had said that she knew now, too. How well was she coping with it? Elizabeth had said that she was taking it well, but was she really? It had to have been every bit as much of a shock to her as it had been to him.

"Hello?" She picked up on the third ring.

"Sis? How are you?"

"I'm OK. What's up, Henry?"

"I just found out the truth about Mom and Dad."

"Oh. Yeah."

"I can't believe it, Paige! All this time I thought we were a normal American family, when in reality, they were spies working for the enemy! Our own parents!"

"It's not as if they had any choice about it." His sister's calm tone drove him crazy. "They were made to do it. They didn't have any choice. They're still the same people they always were. They're still our parents, and they still love us just the same."

"But they lied to us, Paige! All through our lives, they lied to us!"

"They didn't so much lie to us as just not tell us certain things, things they knew would hurt us."

"Bullshit!"

"Well, aren't you at least going to the airport to see them off?"

"Um...I guess so." By now, Henry was beginning to calm down slightly.

"Listen, I have to go. Cody's hungry. Please take care, Henry."

With a sigh, Henry hung the telephone up. He felt as if his whole world had just fallen apart and he didn't know where to turn for comfort.


	2. Saying Goodbye

The airport was still decorated for Christmas. Henry knew that the wreaths and poinsettias wouldn't come down until after New Year's Day, but that was really the last of his concerns as he prepared to say farewell to his parents, whom he'd always believed to be loyal, patriotic citizens. Now he wondered how on earth he could have ever been so blind.

Yet hadn't there been signs along the way, subtle hints that things weren't quite as they'd seemed? He recalled the morning his father had cut himself shaving and had uttered a curse word Henry had never heard before, the time he'd found a note beside the telephone written in the letters of a strange alphabet. He should have put two and two together long ago...but then, Paige had been deceived as well...

His reverie was interrupted by the arrival of his sister with her husband and son. Six-month-old Cody saw him and gurgled.

"Hey, Cody!" The sight of his nephew always melted his heart. He reached for the baby, who held his chubby arms out for his uncle. Henry held Cody close, enjoying the infant's fresh, sweet aroma.

"Are you OK, Henry?" Paige sounded concerned. "You sounded upset over the phone."

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine," Henry said sarcastically.

"We may not see them again for a really long time," Paige reminded him.

"How much do you know about Russia, Paige?" he asked. "All I know is it's really cold and people wear furs and drink vodka. What about our grandparents? Do you suppose they're still alive?"

"I don't know any more than you do."

It was almost time for Philip and Elizabeth to board the airplane. "I love you, son," Elizabeth told Henry as she embraced him.

"I love you too...Mom," he told her. "Have a safe flight."

"Get good grades, son," Philip said gruffly. "Make us proud."

"I will, Dad."

"You will let us know when you get there, won't you?" asked Paige.

"Of course we will," her mother told her.

Then they were gone, possibly forever. Henry had a weird, empty feeling as he went back to his car. Paige had her husband and son, but he had no one.

* * *

For Henry, returning to school on the first day of the spring term was like waking up to normal life after having the most bizarre dream imaginable. He looked around at his fellow classmates and envied their nonchalance. For them, it had been just a normal holiday.

Suddenly he saw her, loaded down with a heavy backpack, staring through an open door, confusion in her brown eyes. For some reason, he felt drawn to her.

"Hi," he said.

She glanced at him. "Excuse me, but do you know if this is where the Comparative Politics class meets?"

"No, it meets down the hall." He smiled. "I'm headed there myself. Want to walk together?"

She smiled. "All right."

"Hey, let me carry that for you." He reached for the backpack, and she gratefully handed it over. "By the way, I'm Henry Jennings." It was the way he'd always introduced himself, so it came naturally to him. He wasn't about to tell her his real last name. And that thing about the patronymic? He didn't even know what that meant. He supposed he'd have to ask his father about it sometime.

"I'm Holly, Holly Koch. And no, I wasn't born around Christmastime. That's what everybody always asks. My birthday's in June."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Holly Koch." By now they'd reached the lecture hall and were looking for seats.

"Same here." She chose a seat halfway back and near one end. He hesitated for a moment, until she smiled and patted the seat beside her. It was still a few minutes before time for class to begin.

"So, are you planning on going into teaching?" asked Holly.

"I want to do research." It had always seemed only natural that Henry would go into political science, and his parents had always been fully supportive of that fact. Looking back, he now saw that they'd probably secretly hoped that he would become disenchanted with Capitalism and become sympathetic to the Communist cause. Although now, of course, it had ceased to be a cause, at least for the Jennings.

The professor arrived and began to hand out syllabi, and the first class of the new term was officially underway.


	3. Holly

She wasn't in any of his classes for the rest of that day, but he couldn't get her off his mind. At lunchtime he saw her bending over to pick up a fork she'd dropped. In a flash he'd retrieved it and handed it back to her.

"Thank you..." Her eyes met his and widened in recognition as she smiled. "Henry Jennings."

He grinned back. "Why, you're very welcome, Holly Koch." He nodded toward an empty table. "Care to join me?"

She shrugged. "Might as well." They took their lunches to the table and sat down. Henry suddenly found himself tongue-tied. He'd always been shy around girls and had never dated much. He'd gone to his senior prom with the daughter of one of his mother's friends.

"So, did you have a nice holiday?" Holly asked.

"Um...yeah, it was fine. How was yours?"

"Mine was great! I helped Mom decorate and cook, and and all the relatives came, even the ones on my Dad's side who don't usually come. Believe it or not, we even still have leftovers."

Henry wondered whether Holly's father had deserted the family.

"So, do you still live with your folks?" she asked.

"Until recently," Henry replied. "They work for the CIA, and they've just been sent overseas on a long-term assignment," he lied.

"Wow! Your folks are spies? Really?" Holly was obviously impressed. "How exciting!"

"I guess so." Henry shrugged. "I never really thought much about it one way or the other. So what do your folks do?"

"Mom's a supermarket cashier. She wanted to go to school to become a nurse, but she had to go to work right away when Dad died."

"I'm sorry." Henry felt very awkward.

"It's all right. He's been gone for ten years now. We get along OK, but I'm always gonna miss him." She sounded as if she were about to cry. "The day before he died, he said he was gonna take me and my brothers camping on his next day off. We were looking forward to that so much. We couldn't believe it when he never came home the next morning." She pushed her food around on her plate idly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to depress you."

"That's all right." He gave her a comforting smile. "How old are your brothers?"

"Marshall's fifteen, and Roger's thirteen. Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"I have an older sister named Paige. She's married now and has a baby."

"Wow, so you're an uncle! That's great!"

"Yeah." By then lunch was over, and he walked her to her next class, even though it was in the opposite direction from his own.

* * *

The house seemed unnaturally quiet when he arrived home that evening. He wondered how long it would take for him to get used to it. His anger at his parents had dwindled to a dull resignation, and he found himself longing for the way things had been before he'd learned the truth. He remembered what Holly had said about looking forward to going camping with her father. When he'd been younger, there had been camping trips and other fun outings as well. His parents had never seemed to be anything other than perfectly ordinary people. How on earth had he and Paige been fooled for so long?

_Holly. _If they became close friends, he'd eventually have to tell her the truth. What would she think of him then?

To take his mind off things, he turned the television on. President Yeltsin had just ended price controls, which was expected to result in some prices becoming three to five times higher than before. The Bosnian Serbs wanted their independence, and so did Slovenia and Croatia. Henry turned the channel to PBS and watched Sesame Street.

* * *

The following morning she smiled and made room for him as soon as she saw him. "Lots of stuff happening in the world right now, isn't there?" she remarked. "Did you watch the news last night?"

"Um, no."

"I remember how scared I always was of the Communists when I was growing up. I was sure they were going to drop a nuclear bomb on us and blow us to smithereens, but now their whole government is kind of falling apart, isn't it?"

Henry didn't say anything.


	4. Close Call

"You're not one of them, are you?" Holly asked after a minute or so.

"One of who?"

"Communists."

"Me? No way! I'm a registered Republican." It was true, and seemed to satisfy Holly's curiosity, although it gave Henry the strange feeling that he was betraying his parents.

"What about you?" he asked. She frowned. "Democrat or Republican?" he clarified.

"Democrat." She looked a bit embarrassed.

"Oh, really?' he teased.

"I really wanted Dukakis to win in the last election," she continued. "I would have voted for him myself if I'd been old enough. I was only a few months too young at the time."

"Yeah, me too."

"Well, your guy won, anyway," Holly pointed out. "Say, what do you think of Bill Clinton?"

"Uh, I don't know too much about him. Sorry."

"He's from Arkansas."

"I know _that."_

"His wife, Hillary, seems to be a very assertive woman. I think it would be good for this country to have a bold First Lady."

"Perhaps." Class started then. Henry found himself eager for it to end, as he couldn't wait to continue his conversation with Holly.

"My father was always a staunch conservative," she said without missing a beat as Henry walked her to her second class of the day. "My parents always took their middle-class lifestyle for granted, but that all changed when my Dad was murdered. All of a sudden we had to get used to living on a much reduced income. My Mom learned the hard way what it was like to struggle to pay bills, and us kids learned what it was like to do without things other kids had, like trips to Disneyland and expensive clothes and toys."

As she was talking they continued walking across the parking lot, until suddenly Henry saw a car barreling straight for them! Quickly he jumped out of the way, pulling Holly with him.

"My God!" Holly was obviously shaken as she watched the car speed away.

"Idiot," Henry muttered as he shook his head.

"Did you see that guy's eyes?" Holly asked shakily.

Henry frowned. "What do you mean?"

"He was aiming straight for us! He tried to run us down on purpose, Henry."

* * *

"Henry? It's me." The sound of his father's voice made Henry gulp.

"Well, how is everything? How's school?" Phillip's attempt at congeniality was strained at best.

"Um, it's OK. I met a girl, Holly."

"That's nice. How are your classes going?"

"OK. How's Mom?"

"She and I are both all right. Missing you and your sister, of course."

"I guess you're glad to be back in your _real _home." Henry was unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

"Everything's completely different now, son. The economy's a real mess. Prices are out of control, and there's no money left to take care of the poor. It's similar to what happened during the Great Depression in the United States in the 1930's. You remember learning about that in school."

"Yeah."

"Yeltsin thinks that privatization is the way to go. He wants to issue vouchers to help people set up their own businesses and promote a free market and competition. Capitalization, Henry. Just like the way you were raised."

"It isn't all bad, Dad. What's wrong with being able to do your own thing without the government controlling everything?"

"It's just a whole new idea for us, son. It's going to take some getting used to. Your mother and I fought against it for so long that I imagine it will take some time for our way of thinking to change."

"It ought to be easy." Henry gave a sharp laugh. "You sure faked it for enough years."

Phillip sighed. "We did what we had to, son. Please try to understand."

"Yeah, and lying to your kids was part of what you had to do, too."

"I have to go now, Henry. International phone rates are rather high. Please take care, son, and remember that we love you."

"Yeah. Bye."

He hung up the telephone and went to look in the mirror. _Am I Henry Mikhailovich Ivanov or Henry Jennings? _Automatically he recited a phrase he'd repeated every school morning from kindergarten through twelfth grade. "I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the republic for which it stands, one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all."

The words made him weep.


	5. First Date

Henry found that he couldn't get to sleep that night. He couldn't get the incident in the university parking lot out of his mind. Had the driver of the car really been trying to hit them as Holly had said? He shuddered to think what would have happened if he hadn't had such quick reflexes.

When he saw Holly the next day, he suddenly felt an overwhelming concern for her. She'd seemed so shaken that he'd felt bad about leaving her to return home. He'd known that it was entirely too soon in the relationship to ask her to spend the night so had had no other choice.

"Hey! Are you all right?" he asked, rushing anxiously toward her.

"I'm fine." She frowned. "You, on the other hand, don't look so hot."

"I didn't get much sleep last night," he told her. "My Dad called."

"Is he all right?" she asked.

"He's fine. My Mom is, too."

"So where overseas are they?"

"Iraq. Where else?" He was amazed at how easily the lie had slid off his tongue. _Must be hereditary, _he thought grimly.

"Oh my God! How dangerous!"

"Yeah, well, somebody has to keep an eye on Saddam Hussein."

"I remember the first day of Operation Desert Storm last year," said Holly. "The front page of the newspaper just said "War!' in giant letters on the front. All of us stayed home and watched television all day. We were so scared."

"Paige was pregnant with Cody when that happened," Henry replied. "I was really worried about her."

"Oh, is that your nephew? How old is he?"

"Almost seven months." Henry grinned. "Want to see a picture of him?"

"Sure!"

Henry dutifully opened his wallet and showed her Cody's Christmas photograph. "Aw, he's adorable!" she said, predictably.

"Hey, um...are you doing anything this weekend?"

"Not that I know of so far."

"Want to go see 'Freejack' with me?"

"I'd love to!"

* * *

He arrived at the address she'd given him five minutes early. The house was a modest frame house with chipping white paint and a porch with broken stone steps. He rang the bell and stood there shifting nervously from one foot to the other. He'd almost given up and gone back when the door was hurriedly pulled open by a middle aged woman with mousy brown hair that was gray at the roots and tired blue eyes surrounded by generous spidery creases.

"Mrs. Koch? I'm Henry Jennings." He licked his lips nervously. "Holly's expecting me."

"Come on in." Her voice was flat, lifeless. "Have a seat." She nodded to a worn orange Naugahyde sofa with foam stuffing showing through the large cracks, which were only partially covered with duct tape. "She'll be out in a minute."

Henry obediently took a seat and surveyed his surroundings. The living room carpet was a patchwork of different colors. A small television with rabbit ear antennae was in one corner, resting on a wooden stand.

"Holly! Your date's here!" Mrs. Koch hollered. A boy of about fifteen appeared in a doorway and eyed Henry curiously. A moment later, Holly herself appeared wearing jeans and a light pink sweater. Her hair was still damp. She smiled when she saw Henry.

"You look really nice," he told her.

"Thanks. So do you."

"Are you ready to go, then?"

She said good-bye to her mother, who told her to have a nice time and be careful, and Henry walked her to his car.

"I Know the house isn't much." She sounded terribly embarrassed. "Our old place was much nicer, but after Dad died, Mom couldn't keep up the payments."

"It's fine." Henry tried, but failed, to think of something positive to say about the house. "Your Mom seems nice."

"She had to work a long shift today."

Soon they arrived at the theater. "Do you want popcorn? Something to drink?" asked Henry.

"I'm fine, thanks." Holly smiled.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

They both enjoyed the movie and talked about it all the way back to Holly's house. Henry walked her up the crumbling steps, being careful not to stumble.

"That was really nice," Holly said when they reached the door. "Thanks for taking me out, Henry."

"Thanks for going out with me." In the moonlight he thought she was beautiful. He longed to touch her hair and wondered if it would be all right to kiss her. "See you in school Monday."

"Yeah." She smiled. "Good night." She opened the door and was gone. He blew a kiss at the closed door.


	6. Of Car Batteries And Hot Chocolate

Henry went to bed with a smile on his face that night. Holly seemed to be such a nice girl; it was a shame her family was so economically disadvantaged. He found himself thinking about her late father, wondering what he'd done for a living, whether he'd had a dangerous job such as one as a fireman or policeman and if so, if he'd died on the job. He knew that it wasn't his place to ask, but he wondered nonetheless. He fell asleep thinking about it.

School soon settled into the comfortably predictable pattern it always did, and Henry continued to see Holly frequently, both at school and on weekends. He took her to the movies, roller skating, bowling, and out to dinner. They had a lot of fun together, but the subject of Holly's father and his tragic loss never came up again. To Henry's immense relief, neither did that of his own parents.

One gloomy winter day followed another, and the streets were often slick with rain or sleet, which made for hazardous driving conditions. One morning Holly was late to class. "My car wouldn't start this morning," she explained to Henry. "I had to take a taxi here."

"Oh, no!" Henry exclaimed. "How much was the fare?"

"Not that much. Only about five bucks or so."

"Here." Henry took a five from his wallet and handed it to her.

She gave him a puzzled look. "What's this for?"

"The cab fare."

Holly laughed, startled. "But it was only five bucks!"

"Please, Holly. I _want _to do it. So, what are you going to do about your car? Are you taking it to the mechanic's?"

"Nah. I'm pretty sure it's just the battery." She sighed. "I swear, it's just one thing right after another with that car."

"After class today, I'll take you to the auto parts store and get the battery for you."

Holly looked shocked. "Oh, Henry, you don't have to do that!"

He grinned. "I know I don't."

"Well...gosh, I don't know what to say! Thanks!" She embraced him and kissed his cheek, and he blushed.

He worked part time as a legislative page and additionally, his parents sent him money to cover his living expenses every month. He figured he'd ask them for an extra fifty dollars this month, saying that he needed it for car repairs. It wouldn't exactly be a lie. He'd simply let them assume that he was talking about his own car.

Although they were both dressed warmly, they shivered on their way to Henry's car after class. As soon as they were sitting in the front seat, Henry turned the heater on, and they immediately felt a blast of warm air. "Oh, that feels so nice," Holly moaned.

"Doesn't the heater in your car work?" asked Henry.

"Nope. It's busted," Holly replied.

Henry felt a now-familiar surge of pity as he turned into the parking lot of the auto parts store. He was surprised that Holly seemed to so accepting of her situation. He suspected that, if his own situation were similar, he'd probably be seething with bitterness at the injustice of it most of the time. He wondered whether she ever raged in private.

Stopping at her family's humble abode after having competed the errand, he asked whether her house had adequate heating and was assured that it did. He walked her to the door, and she invited him in for a cup of hot chocolate, which he gratefully accepted.

Mrs. Koch came out of the kitchen when she heard the door open and close. She was wearing a shapeless navy blue sweater that had obviously been washed many times and bedroom slippers that had holes in the toes. She looked at Henry curiously.

"I told Henry about the car, and he took me to buy the battery after school," Holly explained.

"How much do I owe you?" Mrs. Koch asked Henry.

"Nothing at all, ma'am."

Her eyes narrowed. "I don't believe in accepting charity."

"Well, just pay me whatever you can afford, then," said Henry. "There's no hurry."

Mrs. Koch looked immensely relieved. She even smiled for the first time. "You _will _stay for hot chocolate, won't you?"

Several minutes later, they were sitting at the table with steaming mugs in front of them. "So tell me about yourself," Mrs. Koch said to Henry. "You got family here?"

"Just my sister and her husband and baby. My parents work overseas for the government."

"You seem like such a nice boy. You remind me of my Ed." She suddenly looked very sad. "We lost him almost eleven years ago. He never came home from work one morning, and several hours later, the police called and said they'd found his body lying in the street. He'd been shot in the head. They never even found who did it."

"That's terrible!" Henry exclaimed. "I'm so sorry!" In the presence of the woman's obvious emotional distress, he felt terribly awkward.

"Did you ever lose anyone you love?" asked Mrs. Koch.

"No," Henry replied.

"It's the worst feeling there is in the world. You never get over it. Over time it gets just a little bit easier, but the pain never completely goes away."

Henry glanced at Holly, who was staring dejectedly into her cup of hot chocolate. He gave her hand a quick squeeze underneath the table, and she smiled gratefully at him.

_I think I'm falling in love with her._


	7. Valentine's Day

In spite of his original intentions, Henry ended up staying at Holly's house far later than he'd planned to, and when Mrs. Koch invited him to stay for dinner, he was afraid it would seem rude to refuse. Dinner turned out to be fried chicken with mashed potatoes and green beans. Henry chose a drumstick as the plate of chicken was passed around. He noticed that Mrs. Koch took the backbone.

"Are you sure that's enough for you, hon?" she asked him.

"I'm fine, thanks," he replied, feeling more than a little bit guilty. _I should have taken the backbone, and then she could have had the drumstick. _Marshall and Roger seemed fascinated by him and asked a barrage of questions, and he answered as politely as he could. "Do you like to play hockey?" Marshall asked after awhile.

"I _love _to play hockey!" Henry exclaimed. "I used to play it with my Dad all the time..." Suddenly he felt very depressed. How could the man with whom he'd spent so many enjoyable hours playing hockey have turned out to have really been an enemy agent? It seemed too difficult a concept to comprehend.

"So why don't you anymore?" asked Roger.

"He and my Mom are overseas on a top secret government mission." It was only partially untrue.

"Wow!" The younger boy was clearly impressed. "You mean just like James Bond?"

Henry grinned. "Yeah, something like that." He left soon after dinner, thanking Mrs. Koch for the meal and promising to see Holly in school the following day.

Alone in the home he'd shared with his parents until recently, Henry felt himself becoming increasingly sad. Popping 'Dead Poet's Society' into the VCR, he realized that he was lonely, that even after this short time, he already missed Holly, her voice, her smile, her laugh. As he sat chuckling at Robin Williams' antics, he couldn't help but imagine what it would be like for Holly to be sitting there on the sofa beside him, laughing along with him. It would be nice to feel the warmth of her body pressed against his own. He couldn't imagine how painful it must have been for her to have lost her father and yet, in a way, hadn't he lost his own as well?

January became February, and one Friday morning Henry awakened and suddenly realized that it was Valentine's Day and he hadn't yet bought a thing for Holly. Skipping breakfast, he quickly dressed and raced to the 24-hour supermarket, where he hurriedly grabbed the first heart-shaped box of chocolates he saw and got in line at the register. He made it to his first class of the day just in time to find that, to his disappointment, Holly wasn't there.

For the rest of that day, Henry was so worried about Holly that he could barely concentrate on his other classes. As soon as the last one had ended, he drove to her house and rang the doorbell. Mrs. Koch appeared a moment later, looking very tired. "Hi, Mrs. Koch," Henry said politely. "Is Holly in?"

"She's sick with the flu," the middle-aged woman replied. "You'll have to come back another time."

Henry felt his heart sink. "Will you please give her this?" He handed Mrs. Koch the box of chocolates, and her face lit up as she smiled.

"I certainly will. Thank you for stopping by." Cheered by the thought of how happy he hoped his present would make her, Henry returned home. The following Monday morning, Holly was back in school, looking a bit paler and thinner than usual. Her face lit up when she saw Henry. "Henry! Thanks so much for the chocolate!" A warmth flooded through him as she embraced him.

"I'm glad you like it. I hope you're better now," he replied.

"I'm not one hundred percent," she admitted. "I cam back to school anyway because I didn't want to get too far behind. Can I borrow your notes from Friday?"

"Of course! I'll Xerox them for you and give them to you at lunch. I'm sorry you got sick, Holly. I wanted to take you out to dinner somewhere nice for Valentine's Day."

She smiled. "That's OK. You can take me out this Friday night instead."

He grinned. "You bet!"

She mostly just picked at her food. "It came on me kind of all of a sudden that Thursday night," she told Henry. "I started coughing real bad right after school. I thought I was just coming down with a cold so I took some cough syrup, but it didn't help. Friday morning I was so sick I couldn't even get out of bed!"

"Sounds like the pits." Henry handed her the Xeroxed notes, and she thanked him. "I'm sure glad you're doing some better."

Friday night, Henry dressed in his nicest black slacks and a grey sweater. He cleaned his car out as well as he could and hung a new deodorizer from the rear view mirror. He dabbed on the cologne Paige and Matthew had given him for Christmas and then drove to Holly's. Mrs. Koch met him at the door again.

"Sorry but I can't invite you in this time," she told him. "The boys are both sick with the flu now. They must have caught it from their sister."

"Oh, no!" Henry exclaimed.

Holly arrived a minute or two later. Henry noticed that she was wearing the same pale pink sweater she'd worn when he'd taken her to see 'Freejack' and wondered whether it was the only sweater she owned that she thought looked nice enough to wear out on a date. He made a mental note to look for a new sweater for her on the next gift-giving occasion that came up. He wondered what a discreet way of finding out what size she wore would be.

"Do you like Asian food?" he asked her when they were seated in the car.

"I don't know. I don't think I've ever had it before," she admitted.

"You have _got _to be kidding me!" Henry was incredulous. "You don't know what you've been missing!"

He took her to a Filipino buffet, where she enjoyed sweet and sour shrimp and fried bananas for the very first time. "This is so good!" she exclaimed. "Thanks for taking me here!"

"You're very welcome," he said with a smile. "We'll come back any time you like."


	8. Henry's Birthday

Henry's birthday was the following week. In addition to Holly, Paige, and Matthew, he invited his friends from school, Ryan and Patrick, and their girlfriends, Kelly and Jill. As he could have predicted, Matthew and Paige arrived first. "Happy birthday, Henry." Paige gave her brother a hug and a kiss on the cheek and handed him a small package wrapped in wrapping paper. He could tell it was a CD just by looking at it. He put it on a coffee table to wait until the others got there. "How's Cody?" he asked.

Paige rolled her eyes. "Teething is the pits! He hasn't kept me awake at night this much since he was a newborn."

"How's the band coming along?" he asked Matthew.

"It's coming along really well," Matthew told him. "We did several Red Hot Chili Pepper covers at this club last weekend. Had the girls screaming and begging for more. Say..." He playfully punched his brother-in-law in the arm. "You can come see us play from now on."

"Yeah." Henry remembered standing in line to buy his first six-pack of beer earlier that day. Even though he'd known it would be all right, he'd still been nervous, his eyes darting this way and that, surreptitiously searching for a blue uniform.

As he'd hoped, Holly arrived next, shyly handing him a box wrapped in wrapping paper. Impulsively he kissed her lips. She was first startled, then delighted. "Aw, you didn't have to get me anything!" he told her.

"Of course I did. It's your birthday. Happy birthday, Henry."

Ryan, Kelly, Patrick, and Jill all arrived together. "Woo hoo!" Ryan high fived his friend. "Gonna be some serious partying tonight!"

"I brought you something to celebrate with," Patrick chimed in, showing Henry a bottle of vodka. Henry gasped. "What's wrong?" Patrick was puzzled.

"Nothing." He shrugged in exaggerated nonchalance as an image of his father pouring shots from a bottle of the same brand of vodka flashed into his mind.

"Where did you get that?" his mother had asked suspiciously.

His father had shrugged. "I don't remember. They sell it everywhere, as you well know. Stop being paranoid, Elizabeth. They didn't even give me a second glance."

Henry, who'd been thirteen at the time, hadn't understood the interaction at all. He understood it all too well now.

Reaching for Paige's present, he opened it to find the expected Toad the Wet Sprocket CD. "Thank you," he said politely to his sister. Next he opened the present Holly had brought to find a box of chocolate-covered cherries.

"I know it isn't much," she said apologetically.

"It's perfect," Henry assured her. "Thanks."

He'd passed out the refreshments and everyone was talking and laughing and eating when the telephone rang and Henry grabbed it. "Happy birthday, sweetheart," said Elizabeth. "I wish we could be there with you this year."

"So what's going on over there?" Henry asked shortly.

"An attempted rebellion by the Azerbaijanis has been successfully repressed," Elizabeth said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"The Azer _what?" _

"The citizens of the Azerbaijan SSR. The _former _Azerbaijan SSR, I mean. They blockaded the town of Khojaly, preventing the Armenians from having access to the airport. Something had to be done."

"So what did you guys do to them?" He wasn't really sure he wanted to know.

"Are you all right, sweetie? Are you warm enough? Do you have enough to eat?" asked Elizabeth, completely ignoring her son's question.

"I'm fine, Mom. Are you and Dad all right?"

"We're doing well. Your Dad told me you'd met someone. How's that going?"

"Fine. Her names' Holly, and she's really nice. She's...a Democrat. She's here now."

"Glad to hear it. Is your sister there?"

"Yeah. I'll put her on." He handed the receiver to Paige. "It's my Mom," he explained to Holly.

As his sister talked to their mother, Henry's mind wandered back to to his birthday ten years previously. His mother had been away for awhile and had only recently rejoined the family. His father had told him that she'd been injured in a car crash and had been recuperating at the hospital but hadn't given him any of the details. Henry had received a telescope rather than the video game system he'd hoped for but had been nice about it. His parents had left the party abruptly, leaving him and Paige with a sitter, but had taken them to an amusement park that weekend. They'd seemed unusually upset when they'd returned to pick him up later. He'd asked what was wrong, and they'd laughed it off.

"So how are things in Iraq?" asked Holly after Paige had hung up the telephone.

"Iraq?" Paige looked puzzled. "They're in Moscow..."


	9. Making The World A Better Place

"Moscow? But I don't understand. Henry told me they were in Iraq."

Henry felt his heart sink to his toes. "I'm sorry, Holly. I know I should have told you the truth from the beginning, but I was just so scared."

"Scared? What of?"

Henry heaved a deep sigh. "My parents _are _spies, but they're not Americans. They're Russians. I only found out a couple of months ago, right after Christmas."

Holly could only sit gaping at him.

"I was so afraid that if I told you the truth about them you wouldn't want anything to do with me, so I made up a story about them being spies in Iraq. I couldn't think of anything else to do. Please don't be angry."

"So what else have you lied to me about?" Holly's eyes were blazing.

"I swear to you, Holly, everything else I've ever told you is completely true."

Paige looked at her husband. "I think we'd better go now." He nodded in understanding.

"Well, see ya around," added Ryan as he, Patrick, Kelly and Jill prepared to leave as well, leaving Henry and Holly alone together.

"How can I ever trust you again if you'd lie to me about something that important?" She walked to the window, turning her back to him.

"If you think _that's _bad, try being lied to by your parents for almost twenty-one years."

"What?" She turned to face him.

"Like I said, I didn't even find out myself until right after Christmas. Yeltsin called them home when Gorbachev resigned. They told me a few days before they left. It was the biggest shock of my life. Growing up there were a few things that seemed kind of off every so often, but I never paid much attention to them, because in almost every other way, they seemed so perfectly normal and average. Paige and I never had any idea. They faked it so well."

"So up until a couple of months ago, you thought you were American?"

"That's right."

"My God." Her voice was almost a whisper. "That would be kind of like finding out you were adopted or something."

"I felt like I didn't even really know myself, like I was a stranger inside my own skin."

She returned to her seat, where she just sat staring at her hands for a few minutes. "So in a way you lost your father too, just like I lost mine."

"I never thought of it like that, but yeah, I guess you're right." Suddenly he just had to know. "How did he die, exactly? I know your Mom told me he was shot in the head..."

"It was right after the attempt on President Reagan's life. We were all scared to death it was the Russians and they were about to invade. He was sent to guard Casper Weinberger's house. His supervisors were afraid there would be a break-in. We went to bed just like normal that night. When we got up the next morning, Mom was crying really hard. She told us someone had shot Dad in the head and just left him lying there. Nobody was ever arrested for it, but Mom told us later that the KGB had been active that night, that they were afraid the assassination attempt would be blamed on them, that some files had been stolen from Weinberger's house. I didn't understand any of that. All I knew was that I'd never see my father again, ever."

"The funeral was two days later. I'll never forget how peaceful he looked lying there in his casket, just like he was asleep. That was the first time I'd ever seen a dead body before. Marshall and Roger were there too. Later on, when I was older, Mom told us she'd been really torn over whether or not to take us to the funeral. On the one hand, she'd realized that we were too young and might be overwhelmed, but on the other hand, she thought we deserved the chance to say good-bye to him. Now I'm glad she took us. If she hadn't, I would have always wondered what he looked like and been afraid that it was really bad."

Henry was silent, thinking about what Holly had just told him about the KGB, about the occasional times his parents had left him and Paige with a sitter for brief periods of time with only the vaguest of explanations. Had the night Holly's father was murdered been one of those nights? _Oh dear God no, please no..._

"What is it, Henry? You look like you've just seen a ghost!"

"How do you feel about the person who killed your Dad, Holly? Do you hate them and want them dead?"

"I was really angry at them for a long time, and yes, I wanted them to die too, but when I got to be older, I realized that killing them wouldn't bring him back, and that maybe they had a family who loved them, too."

"I don't know where my parents were that night." The inside of his mouth felt like sandpaper. "For all I know, they might have been there...oh God, I'm so sorry..." Suddenly he was weeping uncontrollably. He was shocked when he felt her arms around him, holding him, comforting him.

"It doesn't matter now, Henry. Dad died doing his job, making Americans safer and the world a better place. He would have had no regrets, and I've always tried to tell myself that maybe whoever killed him thought they were doing the right thing, too."

_Making the world a better place. _Hadn't he heard those same words from his mother's lips before? Although at the time he'd had no idea what she was talking about, of course. He understood much better now and didn't welcome the new insight at all; in fact, he'd never wanted more desperately to blot something from his mind. And yet weren't they still his parents, the same people who'd taught him to walk, who'd bandaged his scraped knees, who'd comforted him when he'd had bad dreams at night? Whatever else they might have done, he knew that he couldn't hate them. He just couldn't.

"Henry?" Gentle fingers lifted his face to look into his eyes. "Are you all right?"

To his utter surprise, desire for her coursed through every fiber of his being, nearly taking his breath away. A part of him was suddenly very rigid, so much so that his clothing was now uncomfortable. Alarmed, he stood and moved away from her as quickly as he could.

"Henry, what's wrong? Did I do something to upset you?"

"Oh no, not at all." _Quite the opposite, in fact..._


	10. Max Timoshev

_Of all the crazy, inappropriate times for this to happen, why now? _He gritted his teeth in annoyance as he turned so that she couldn't see the bulge in his pants. "I suppose I should be going." Her voice betrayed her guilt.

"Please don't go!" Forgetting, he turned to face her.

"Oh." She stared at his crotch as his face burned with shame. "You _do _want me to stay, then."

Without a word he sat on the sofa beside her once more. She put her hand on his pants leg and slide it almost, but not quite, all the way up, then removed it. "I think it's still too soon."

"I don't have any...you know...anyway." He remembered the way Matthew had winked at him when he'd arrived. _Why does everything that starts out so good always have to get so fucked up?_

She nodded understanding. "But I still want you to stay," he continued. "I don't want to be alone tonight."

"Neither do I." They drank all the vodka and fell asleep together on the sofa. The telephone rang at about four in the morning, and even though Henry had a pounding headache, he got up to answer it.

"Holly?" Mrs. Koch's voice was so shrill that it made his ear ring.

"I'll get her." He shook Holly awake and handed her the receiver.

"Hello?" she mumbled. From the way she cringed, Henry could tell that her mother must be screaming at her. "I'll be right there." She hung the receiver up. "I have to go home right now. I never should have stayed this late. Mom's worried sick about me, especially after what happened to Dad..."

"Are you sure you'll be OK?" He reached for her, and she let him hold her for just a second.

"Yeah," she whispered. He felt the soft brush of her hair on his cheek as she turned to go. He watched for a long time after her car had disappeared into the distance, feeling an odd hollowness in his chest.

* * *

Several days later, Henry and Holly were together in the university's cafeteria when she grabbed his arm, digging her fingers into his flesh as she pulled him back. "That's _him!" _she hissed. "That's the guy who tried to run us over!"

Henry didn't recognize the other boy at all. He looked ordinary enough, slight with lanky medium brown hair, pale blue eyes, and a thin mustache. The boy looked at him, and he glanced away.

"Are you sure?" Henry whispered.

"I'm positive!" Holly replied.

Henry glanced back at the boy and saw that he was holding a couple of folders and a notebook. Moving with utmost stealth, he inched his way closer until he could see the name written on the front of the notebook. 'Max Timoshev.' He made his way back to Holly, took her hand, and led her outside. "His name is Max Timoshev," he whispered to her.

Her eyes were wide with fright. "What should we do?"

Henry's mind raced. He knew that going to the campus police would be a waste of time, as it would just be his word against Max's. He could file a complaint with the police, but he knew that they wouldn't really do anything without proof, especially since so much time had passed. Even so, he didn't want Holly to worry. "I'll take care of it," he told her.

When he got home that evening, he called Paige. "Do you remember Mom or Dad ever mentioning anyone named Timoshev?" he asked her.

"It doesn't ring a bell," she replied. "But since we're on the subject, I wanted to let you know I've been thinking about using my real middle name and calling myself Paige Mikhailevna Beeman instead of Paige Michelle Beeman."

"But why would you want to do that? For our whole lives we've been Paige Michelle and Henry Phillip Jennings. Why go and complicate things?"

"I just feel it's being more true to myself and who I really am. I've known about Mom and Dad for a lot longer than you have, you know."

_"What?" _Shocked, Henry almost dropped the receiver.

"Mom told me about nine years ago. It was right before she and I flew to Germany to visit Grandmother."

"So we have a grandmother? What about a grandfather?"

_"Had. _She died not too long after I met her. The Nazis killed our grandfather at Stalingrad."

"Nice of you to finally tell me all this."

"I was gonna wait until you were older, but the right time just never came. I'm sorry, Henry."

"Yeah, right."

"What was that about someone named Timoshev?"

"Max Timoshev. He tried to run me and Holly down in the college parking lot. I just found out what his name is."

"He tried to run you down on purpose?"

"Yep."

"My God. I don't know what to say."

A few minutes of awkward conversation followed, and then Henry hung up. _I can't believe it. First my parents, and now Paige. Nobody in this family would know the truth if it bit them in the ass._

* * *

"I brought you here because I wanted to show you who he really was." It was a bright, breezy day, and Henry shivered inside his thin jacket as he watched the way the branches blowing in the wind made the sunlight seem to dance over the headstone. 'Edward James Koch, July 18, 1942-March 30, 1981. Beloved husband and father,' it read.

"To them, he was just an object standing in the way of what they wanted to accomplish," Holly was saying. "Not really a flesh and blood person at all. To us, he was so much more than that."

Aware that a simple 'I'm sorry' would be woefully insufficient, Henry had no idea how to respond. He flinched ever so slightly as Holly took his hand. "I'm not blaming you, Henry. It isn't your fault at all. I just wanted you to know."

Her hand in his was soft and moist, and his nose caught a whiff of her perfume in the breeze. They stood together for a long time, neither one of them saying a word.


	11. Answers

"I have a friend who's a student assistant in the registrar's office," Holly told Henry. "She was able to get Max Timoshev's class schedule. We'll wait for him after his next class and confront him and find out why he's after us."

"And what will that accomplish?"

Holly grinned and showed him the hidden tape recorder inside her jacket.

"Holly, you're a genius! You should have been the child of spies instead of me."

Several hours later, they stood outside the door of the class room, waiting for the class to be over. They heard the shuffling of feet on the other side of the door, and then it burst open and students began to spill out. Henry caught sight of Max's brown hair and stepped directly into his path.

Max scowled. "Get outta my way, man!"

Not until you answer a few questions," said Henry. Max tried to dart away, but Holly blocked his escape. With a sigh of resignation, he glared at Henry. "All right, whaddaya want?"

"I want to know why you deliberately tried to run us down in the parking lot."

"What? You're crazy! I did no such thing!" Max was practically shouting. "I'm no murderer, _Henry Jennings, _although I know that's not your _real _name."

It was Henry's turn to be surprised, although he realized how important it was that his face didn't betray his emotions. So Max had known the truth about him since before he'd found out himself.

"You did, and we have proof of it."

"Ha! You're bluffing, _American _boy. But I ought to have, after what your folks did to my old man. I was only ten years old when I lost him. I needed him, and _they _took him away from me." He sounded like a petulant child.

"I was only ten when my Dad died, too." Holly's voice was quiet.

"Really?" Max's sullen expression was replaced with one of curiosity. "How did he die?"

"In an accident."

"Oh, man, that's really tough. I know how you feel. It sucks to lose someone you love."

"Yes, and it doesn't help one little bit to try to kill someone _they _love in revenge."

"Look, man, I never tried to run anybody down, and that's God's honest truth. I'm sorry if you misinterpreted something I did, but if I promise to never come within fifty yards of either one of you again, will you please just go away and leave me the fuck alone?"

"Of course we will," said Holly. "We just wanted you to know we're onto you."

"You two are crazy," Max mumbled, shuffling away as fast as his feet could carry him.

"So the body count rises to two," Henry remarked when he was gone. "My God, how many people did they kill?"

"I have no idea, but they'd be smart to never return to the United States."

Henry knew that Holly was right, and it occurred to him that if his parents never _did _return to the United States, the only way he'd ever see them again would be to go to Russia himself. He wanted to feel his father's arms around him more than anything else in the world.

"I think he'll leave us alone from now on," Holly was saying. She frowned. "Are you all right, Henry?"

"Not really."

* * *

His wandering eventually led him to the Russian Orthodox church. Somehow, he knew that was where he'd been headed all along. He gazed up at the onion spire, at the white crosses with their double bars, in awe. He'd never been here before.

With only slight hesitation, he pushed the door open and looked around at the pillars, the candle holders, the many icons lining the walls. It all made him feel very small; yet, at the same time, he had the oddest feeling that he was home at last.

"Can I help you, my son?" The priest's voice startled him. Henry saw that he had a long, snow white beard and was dressed in a black cassock with a pewter cross around his neck.

Henry swallowed hard. "Father?"

"Yes, my son."

"I have a question."

The priest nodded in encouragement.

"Is it possible for one person to atone for the sins of another?"

"No, my son. Each must atone for his or her own sins."

Henry looked so distraught that the priest became concerned. "We aren't speaking of sins of a particularly grievous nature, I hope." Considering Henry's age, he imagined exams taken using cheat sheets, allowances squandered, speeding tickets.

"Oh, yes, Father. They're of a very grievous nature."

Unsure of what to say to one who was so young yet so burdened, the elderly priest left Henry alone with his thoughts as his mind went back almost sixty years, to the day a group of Stalinists had burned his first church to the ground. He recalled train load after train load of his former parishioners on their way to their probable deaths in gulags in Siberia for trivial or imagined 'crimes' against the state. He'd said a prayer and crossed himself for every one of them, not caring who saw him.

To the troubled young man who'd just entered his church, the purges would never be anything more than a page in a history book.

Thank God.


	12. Moonlight Stroll

"Two B's and an A!" Holly exulted. It was the last day of the spring term, and she and Henry had just received their final grades.

"That's great!" said Henry. "I got two A's and a B. I think we ought to celebrate. How about if I take you to the nicest restaurant in town?"

Holly gasped. "Fiola Mare?"

"Do you know of a nicer one?"

"Well, no, but I am, like, seriously under dressed."

"Dinnertime isn't for a few more hours. You have plenty of time to change."

"But I don't even _own _anything anywhere _near _nice enough to wear to that restaurant!"

"What's wrong with that pink blouse you have with the lace around the collar?"

"You really think that's nice enough?"

"I think it's really pretty."

She frowned. "Maybe with my black slacks..."

Henry grinned. "You'd be gorgeous!"

He took more care getting ready for the date than he ever had before. Something told him that tonight would be special. He chose his nicest black slacks and grey polo shirt, and was careful to apply just the right amount of cologne. Right before leaving the house, he squirted cinnamon-flavored breath spray into his mouth. He put his hand onto the doorknob and then, on second thought, returned to the dresser, opened the top drawer, removed a small package, and slipped it into his trouser pocket. One never knew.

Arriving at the Koch home, he felt the familiar wave of pity wash over him at the sight of its dilapidated condition. When Mrs. Koch opened the door to let him in, he saw that Holly was standing right behind her mother and gasped. To him, she'd never looked more beautiful.

"Wow!" he whispered.

She smiled. "You look great, Henry!"

"So do you!" He took her arm and led her to his car.

At the restaurant, he declined valet parking, then dropped Holly off at its entrance and parked a couple of blocks over. By the time he reached the place Holly was standing, he was a bit out of breath but didn't mind, as he figured he could use the exercise.

They entered the restaurant, and he heard Holly gasp. The interior was painted white, and the tables and chairs were also white. The latter were comfortably cushioned, and a row of spotlights had been placed at regular intervals along the outer rim of the ceiling. One wall consisted entirely of floor-length windows.

"Party of two?" asked the waiter.

"Yes, sir," Henry replied. They were led to their seats and handed menus.

Henry watched as Holly scanned the choices and knew she was probably searching for the least expensive option. "Order anything you want," he told her. In the end, she selected a medium-priced meal, and he did the same. He ordered wine for them both, but since he was driving, he planned to have only one glass and nurse it slowly throughout the evening.

When the drinks arrived, he smiled and held his own up. "Cheers." She touched hers to his.

Whether from the effect of the wine or the lighting Henry didn't know, but as he watched Holly eat, he began to notice things about her he'd never really seen before: how long and slender her fingers were holding the fork, how full her lips seemed.

"Your eyes are such a deep, dark brown," he murmured. "I could just lose myself in them."

"You have nice eyes, too." She blushed a deep red as she stared at the table top.

"I'm really glad we came here tonight," he continued.

"It's perfect." At last she raised her eyes to meet his, and he saw that they were shining with happiness. "The food, the wine, the music...everything."

"Perhaps we could go for a walk after dinner," he suggested. "It's such a clear night, and there's nothing I'd love more than to stroll beneath the stars with you." He'd never thought of himself as being particularly romantic before, yet tonight he felt a tenderness, a longing, for Holly that he'd never felt for anyone before. His long-ago teenage crushes and fantasies seemed so silly, so insignificant, by comparison.

After leaving the restaurant, they did just that, feeling the light breeze sweep against their faces as they strolled along. Words seemed inadequate to describe the feelings coursing through Henry: warmth, desire ... passion. On impulse, he took Holly's face between his hands and lifted it to kiss her lips. She responded with enthusiasm, her tongue slipping into his mouth to meet his own. He felt himself harden, pressed against her front.

"Don't take me home." Her whisper was throaty. "Take me back to your place."

He couldn't wait to do just that, suddenly afraid he wouldn't even last that long. The urge to feel her bare skin against his own was maddening.

Somehow he made it back to his car and had to force himself to drive below the speed limit on the way home. He entered the house to hear the telephone ringing. With a groan of frustration, he picked the receiver up.

"Henry! I've been trying to reach you for ages! Where in the world have you been?" Paige was breathless, her words rushing together. "Dad just called me from Russia. Mom's been hurt really bad, and they don't even know if she'll live!"


	13. Chechens

Things still seemed unreal to Henry as the airplane took off and became airborne. It had all happened so quickly - the romantic date with Holly, the panicked telephone call from Paige, the hurried arrangement and dash to the airport - that he felt as if he might wake up and find himself still in bed on the morning of the last day of the spring term.

"You know what's ironic?" asked Paige. "I knew something like this would happen someday. I just always thought it would be in the United States. I never even dreamed it might happen in Russia."

Henry just stared out the window without saying a word.

"You're lucky, you know," Paige continued. "All those nights I wondered whether I'd ever see one of them alive again, your biggest worry was a token getting jammed in a video game."

Henry snorted. "Yeah, I'm the lucky one, all right."

"Please, Henry." Paige laid her hand on his arm and gazed into his eyes. Her own were twin pools of torment. "She's our _mother, _the woman who gave birth to us. Don't you even care at all?"

"Of _course _I care! How could you even _ask _such a thing?"

"Look, I know this has been really hard for you. It was hard for me, too, when they first told me. I felt pulled in two different directions for the longest time, until I realized that, whatever else they may be, the most important thing is, they're our parents, and they love us."

"For me, the hardest part was betraying Matthew. I loved him, but I knew his father worked for the FBI and he might have been involved in making nuclear or even biological weapons to use against the Soviet Union. I had to do whatever I could to keep that from happening."

"How could you betray someone you love? I'd never do that to Holly."

"Even if it meant preventing a third world war?"

"God, Paige, I don't know!" It was just too much, all this in such a brief period of time: learning about his parents, meeting Holly, the incident with Max Timoshev, and now this...

He glanced over at his sister to see that her eyes were closed and her lips were moving but no audible words were coming out. He knew that she was praying. She still attended the same church she'd gone to as a teenager, and she was still good friends with Pastor Tim and Alice and had babysat for them often before she'd had Cody.

It occurred to Henry that, over the years, his sister had become as good at compartmentalizing her life as their parents were.

The airplane landed at Domodedovo Airport, and Henry and Paige disembarked along with all the other passengers. They saw their father right away, standing with a younger man who looked to be in about his mid thirties. He had very dark brown hair that was parted on the left and very serious light blue eyes.

"How is she?" asked Paige.

"Stable." Philip didn't smile. "My daughter, Paige, and my son, Henry," he said to the young man. "This is Mischa Semenov," he told Paige and Henry.

"It's wonderful to finally meet you." Mischa gave a small smile as he shook hands with Paige and Henry, who looked at one another in bewilderment.

So this is Russia, Henry told himself as he gazed out the car's window at the buildings, vehicles, and people. Except for the Cyrillic letters on the signs, it could have been any busy American city. Henry wasn't sure what he'd expected to see.

The hospital turned out to be a large white building nine stories high. Philip parked in the parking lot behind it, and the four of them went inside. The hallway was dimly lit, with a floor made of yellow tile with diamond shapes and a row of dark blue leather seats against one wall.

Henry wasn't at all prepared for the sight of his mother lying pale and still in intensive care with a tube up her nose and an IV in her arm, surrounded by machines. Comparing her present condition with his memories of how strong and capable she'd always been made Henry's heart break.

"Mom?" He touched her hand and was relieved that it still felt warm.

They were only allowed to visit with her for a few minutes. Philip filled Paige and Henry in on the details of the incident as soon as they'd walked back out into the hallway. "It was a car bomb," he told them. "Chechen gangsters are suspected. It's a miracle she's still alive considering the amount of blood she's lost."

"What are Chechens?" asked Henry.

"One of the most brutal gangs in the Russian Mafia. Their people are trying to illegally secede from the country. There will probably be a war in the end."

"Like the American Civil War?" asked Henry.

"I guess so." Philip sat in one of the dark blue seats and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked as if he'd aged about twenty years since Henry had last seen him.

"Why did you come to the hospital with us?" Paige's eyes narrowed in suspicion as she stared at Mischa. "Who _are _you, really?"

Mischa licked his lips as his eyes darted back and forth. "I'm your brother."


	14. Anya

Paige's hands were on her hips. "That's a lie!"

"No, Paige, he's right," said Philip. "When I was a teenager, I had an affair with Mischa's mother, Irina. I didn't even know he existed until I saw Irina again many years later in America."

"Does Mom know?" asked Henry.

"Of course she does."

"How did she take it when she found out?" asked Paige.

"Well enough. She tried to help me get him out of Afghanistan."

Paige's eyes widened as she turned to Mischa. "You were in Afghanistan?"

"I was drafted into the war. I said some things my superiors didn't like, and they had me committed to a mental hospital. After I got out, I came to America and found my father."

"When was this?" asked Henry.

"Nine years ago," Philip told him.

"So all this time, we had a brother we didn't even know about." Paige crossed her arms and regarded her father with a sullen glare.

"I really meant to tell you." Philip gave a helpless shrug. "The right time just never came."

Unable to take any more, Henry turned and began to wander down the hallway, not really paying attention to where he was headed. He was so distracted that he didn't even see the girl approaching from the opposite direction until he nearly collided with her, and she shouted at him in Russian.

"Sorry," he stammered.

"You're American." She was too startled to be angry at him anymore, and as Henry gazed at her, he noticed that she was about his age and very pretty. Her dark blonde hair was long and perfectly straight, her eyes were as blue as the afternoon sky, and her lips were full and parted in a slight pout.

"Sort of," he told her.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, I was born in Washington, D.C..."

"You're American, then." She spoke fluent English with only a very slight Russian accent, and he asked her about it.

"My mother's American, too," she explained. "She was a college student in San Francisco in the late sixties, and my father was a sociology professor at a university here in Moscow. He wrote a book about how the principles of Marxism could be applied to the problem of inner city poverty in America. My mother read it and was so impressed that she wrote to him, and he wrote back, inviting her to visit him. She came over and ended up staying." She laughed, a light, tinkling sound that made Henry feel a warm tingle at the base of his spine. A fleeting thought of Holly crossed his mind, but right now she just seemed so very far away...

"I'm Anya Konstantinovna." She extended a hand. "And you are?"

"Henry Jennings." He grinned as he shook her hand.

"It's lovely to meet you, Henry Jennings." He realized that he'd fallen into step beside her and that they were headed in the direction she'd originally been going. "So, what brings you to Moscow?"

"My mother was severely injured in a car accident. They still don't know whether or not she'll make it."

Anya frowned. "So was she vacationing here, then?"

"Something like that." God, girl, but you sure do ask a lot of questions...

Anya nodded. "My grandmother had a ruptured aneurysm. They don't know whether she'll make it or not, either." They'd reached the end of the hallway. "Well, good-bye, Henry Jennings." She gave a slight wave and then was gone.

Henry realized that he was just outside the waiting room where he'd left the others. He entered it to see his father staring morosely at the wall while Mischa and Paige were engaged in conversation. She turned to him as he entered. "We were wondering where you'd gone."

Henry just shrugged and slumped into a seat beside his father.

Later that night, he heard what sounded like muffled sobs coming from somewhere beyond his room. He rose and tiptoed in their direction to find his father sitting on the living room sofa, sobbing hard. Paige's arms were around him.

"I can't lose her!" Philip moaned. "We've been together all this time, and I can't even imagine living without her..."

Paige continued to hold him, murmuring comforting words. Feeling like an intruder, Henry returned to his own room.

He knew he wouldn't get a wink of sleep that night.

* * *

Days passed, and there was no change in Elizabeth's condition. Philip, Paige and Henry spent most of every day at the hospital. Mischa sometimes accompanied them. Henry asked if he'd ever met Elizabeth.

"Of course," Mischa replied. "We've met on quite a few occasions. I've always been impressed by her courage and strength."

One day the physician was talking to Philip and Mischa and Paige were in the cafeteria or the gift shop or somewhere when Henry saw her again. She gave him a smile of recognition. "Want to grab a coffee?"

Five minutes later, they both sat holding steaming mugs. "How's your grandmother?" asked Henry.

"They're talking about taking her off life support." Anya stared down into her coffee.

"I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "She's eighty-three. She's lived a full life. How's your Mom?"

"The same."

She nodded. "It was a Chechen gang, wasn't it?"

Henry gasped. "How'd you know?"

"There was an article about it in the newspaper. You're Mom's Elizabeth Jennings, right? That's not exactly a common surname here in Moscow, you know."

"So you know all about me, then."

"Only what the article said about your family, which wasn't much."

"Did it say what my parents did when they were in America?"

Anya nodded. "It's not anything to be ashamed of. I personally think it's kind of neat to have spies as parents." She took a sip of coffee. "I like you, Henry Jennings. Some friends and I are having an informal get-together at my place tonight, and I'd love it if you could join us."


End file.
